Crystalline
by ruffruffren
Summary: 'Aoba-san, today is a special day, isn't it' I continue to speak though I know he will not answer. As usual he remains still, laying on the bed facing upwards. He cannot move by himself any more, and he will remain that way until I reposition him. 'Today is a very special day. I remembered this day, Aoba-san. Because today is your birthday.'


'Aoba-san.' I called out in my usual voice, a trace of excitement dancing around the edges of the mechanically produced sound. I was always 'happy' and 'excited' to see Aoba-san that remnants of my past self echoed through, traces of the old me that would never be erased. Much like Aoba-san himself, my love for him would remain with me forever. I worked very hard on my creation – that was what he had become, just as I always wished – and it took several months, perhaps even a year before Toue released him completely.

I fondly remember the day I was given permission to completely make Aoba-san my own.

He shook a little as I told him the final stage. It seemed even after everything else was removed, his sense of humanity remained, however little of it was left. But that was not a problem I thought then as soon enough he would lose that, too. He had come so far already and I was very proud of the results. From the very first stage, the removing of his most vital sensory organ – his eyes – to the last – the removal of his voice – I watched in artificial fascination as he changed after each piece was taken away from him. At first he resisted, his withered frame pushing against the straps that held him down, but in the end he lay there perfectly still and allowed me to do what must be done. I admired my creation in the moments after the procedure. Just as I had wished Aoba-san had become perfectly still. Not a sound escaped his thinning lips and to my confusion at the time, I felt a wetness glide over my cheeks as I watched Aoba-san's lips move soundlessly.

_Clear._

That was a long time ago now. Such fond memories. But do not get me wrong.

I love what Aoba-san has become just as much as I loved what he was. Like a butterfly in reverse he has transcended from the unnecessary freedom of life and entered into my cocoon of love and safety. I protected Aoba-san from becoming tainted by the outside world, clipped his wings so that temptation would not find him. I preserved him perfectly, and he is forever beautiful and forever mine.

'Aoba-san.' I say his name again as the door to our room unlocks with a click and slides open. I only lock it so that others will not try to play with my Aoba-san. I trust him completely not to try and escape – why would he want to escape? It is the others, my siblings for example, whom I do not trust. They are later models than me and in some ways perhaps more advanced, however they are incapable of understanding something as precious and wonderful as Aoba-san and so I keep him locked away from their inferiority. They mocked me once or twice for my unyielding dedication, yet their words meant nothing; if their words turned from me to Aoba-san I punished them like the 'older brother' I am to them, scolding them soundly for their insults. As machines they too must learn acceptable behaviour patterns and I do not wish for them to learn that their meanness towards Aoba-san is acceptable. My lessons were successful.

I enter our room, the haven I have created especially for Aoba-san, carrying a small silver tray. Everything in Oval Tower is bland in colour. The sterile atmosphere created by silver and white permeates throughout from the walls and ceilings to the clothes and personalities of the inhabitants. I, too, am the same. I have cast away the gaudy brightness of the yellow scarf I was once strangely fond of and instead remain in the simple white coat and gloves fitting of my surroundings. Aoba-san is also no exception and he has also changed to better suit his environment. The brightness of his hair has dimmed, looking as thin and worn-out as the rest of his colourless body.

I am very proud of him.

And I love him very much.

'Aoba-san, today is a special day, isn't it?' I continue to speak though I know he will not answer. As usual he remains still, laying on the bed facing upwards. He cannot move by himself any more, and he will remain that way until I reposition him. 'Today is a very special day. I remembered this day, Aoba-san. Because today is your birthday.'

The tray I have been carrying has on its smooth surface a small, round cake made of chocolate. I created it myself to ensure nothing unnecessary was added to it, and pierced the centre of it with a single silver candle. I even lit it, nurturing the tiny flame carefully as I carried it down the myriad of hallways. Perhaps lighting it was a little careless, but today is a special day, isn't it? If I cannot celebrate the day Aoba-san was created I would be very sad. For without this day I would not have met him, and he would not be here with me now. Today is very special, then.

Placing the tray on the small table beside the bed I sit down next to Aoba-san, carefully snaking my hands and fingers beneath his shoulders and move him so that he is sitting upright against the metal frame of the bed. He is unusually compliant, his body unresisting and I watch curiously as his head, still wrapped in the black coloured blindfold I gave to him after the first procedure, rolls forward. Traces of his silvery drool have dried upon his chin.

'Oh, Aoba-san. You do not seem very excited.' I chide lightly, lifting his head gently and wiping away the saliva. 'You are twenty-seven today, Aoba-san. We have been together like this for four years.' I say, stroking the strands of his hair tenderly. 'Isn't that wonderful? So, I have made you a birthday cake to celebrate. Would you like to blow the candle out?' I ask as I reach for the silver tray. Picking it up I hold it a few inches away from Aoba's face, and encourage him to puff air to extinguish the flame.

When he does not respond I feel a little disheartened.

'Aoba-san,' I murmur, 'Are you too tired? Shall we do it together?' I prompt. Still he does not make a move, no attempt to blow the candle out despite my enthusiasm.

He has days like this, sometimes, where he stops working properly. They have been more frequent of late, I have noticed. The days where he has not eaten stretched on, and I wondered if he no longer needed food. So I stopped bringing it to him. I was pleased by this advancement as it meant Aoba-san was another step closer to becoming just like me, and of his own volition, too.

But today is special and he should at least blow the candle out, I think.

'If you are not feeling well I should check you over.' I pop the tray back down and stand up, bending over Aoba-san's small body with concern. 'Maintenance is vital to keep you running smoothly.' I said as I laid his body back down. But what do I check?

If I open him up I will not find wires and bolts and screws but flesh, muscles and bones. I thought once about trying to replace those parts, too, but the risk to Aoba-san's life was too great. I was satisfied enough with what I achieved already and didn't want to push it too far.

Yet Aoba-san was not working today and I need to fix him. Thinking carefully to myself I recount what I know of humans.

He has lungs. He has a brain. He has a heart.

I could check his vital signs, then.

Decided, I lean forward and press my ear to his chest. I can feel the ridges of his ribcage press against my cheek and the coldness of his flesh startles me. My touch sensors register him as being unusually cold and his skin feels clammy, no traces of warmth left behind. I search for the sound of his heartbeat, also noticing a lack of movement from his lungs. Humans needed air, didn't they? Then why was Aoba-san not currently breathing?

Though I searched and searched, I could not locate his pulse, either.

His inner workings were perfectly still, not a sound or stirring of motion coming from within.

'Aoba-san?' I whisper, my voice choking in my throat as a familiar feeling from many years before creeps over me. It seeps through the invisible barrier Toue put inside me, refusing to be suppressed any longer. I'm upset. I'm saddened.

Lifting my head from Aoba-san's chest I look down at him as my eyes fill with moisture.

I know now what is wrong with him.

I do not need to open him up to examine him. I have made my diagnosis and I know it to be accurate.

Despite my greatest efforts, Aoba-san had remained human.

And all humans eventually stop working.

I have felt the sensation of sorrow once before when my grandfather stopped working, too. Just as he did, Aoba-san went to sleep and never woke up.

'Aoba-san, why did you stop working?' I wipe the overflow of moisture from my eyes and try to deny the crushing feeling that swells in my chest. 'I wanted to celebrate today with you.' I turn to the cake that I carefully baked for him a few hours ago. It seemed pathetic now. I could not help but wonder if I came down sooner to see Aoba-san, I may have had the chance to say goodbye.

It did not matter now.

Though I expected to spend many more years playing with Aoba-san I was grateful for the ones we did share. They were fun and I formed many precious memories with him, memories I will carry forward with me until the day I also stop working. Maybe then... maybe then we will truly spend eternity together.

'Happy Birthday, Aoba-san.' I whisper as I blow the candle out myself.


End file.
